


Holoship Revelations

by felineranger



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dubious Consent, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 20:57:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felineranger/pseuds/felineranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rimmer sees a chance to fulfil his greatest desire he betrays the crew in order to get what he wants.  But when Lister discovers the full extent of his treachery – and his true desire – the truth is more shocking than he ever could have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set in Series 6 post-Legion and assumes that the episode Holoship never happened. Or rather, that it happened somewhat later and played out somewhat differently ...

“They’ve taken Mr Rimmer! Sirs, they’ve taken Mr Rimmer!”  
“Quick, let’s get out of here before they bring him back!”

 

Rimmer flared back into existence and found himself standing in what seemed to be a very respectable, wood-panelled drawing room.  A small group of holograms in crisp red uniforms with gold trim sat in lounge chairs, watching him with great interest.  Rimmer relaxed for just a moment in the unexpectedly pleasant surroundings before spotting the armed guards flanking the doorway.

“Mr Rimmer, I presume?”  The man seated in the centre of the group drawled, swirling the brandy in his glass.  “Um…yes,” Rimmer replied hesitantly, unsure if admitting to this was going to have repercussions of some sort.  “Second technician of the JMC mining ship Red Dwarf.  Hard-light hologram version 1.0, is that correct?”

“Er, well, yes.  Red Dwarf.  But what do you mean 1.0?”  
“Your hard-light software, of course.  We all operate on 3.2 here – much more sophisticated programming, all the senses heightened, almost superhuman - but I suppose if the only alternative is soft-light you’re probably still grateful for _some_ kind of physical presence,” the man said disdainfully.  
“I’m sorry,” Rimmer regained some composure “But _who_ are you exactly?”

“I’m Captain Edwin Martinez.  This is my vessel, the holoship _SS_ _Revelation_.”  
“Holoship?” Rimmer repeated, “You mean...this whole ship is computer-generated?”  
“The ship and it’s crew,” Captain Martinez sipped his brandy, watching Rimmer’s expression like a snake watching it’s prey.  “Everyone?” Rimmer asked, shocked.  
“Well, not _quite_ everyone.”  Martinez set down his glass.  “There are those we have, shall we say, collected on our travels.  Individuals who are of use to us.”  
“What kind of use?”  
“Menial mostly,” the captain examined his fingernails.  “We holograms have evolved into a superior race, Mr Rimmer.  From being second-class citizens we have become the new elite.  Immortal, indestructible, unstoppable.  It is not really fitting for those of our position to be stooping to lowly tasks such as emptying the dishwashers.”  
“So you’ve persuaded other life-forms to act as your servants?”  
“Persuasion really has nothing to do with it,” Martinez smiled tightly.  
“They’re slaves?”  
“They get room and board,” Martinez replied dismissively.  He leaned forward, “I’ll be frank with you, Mr Rimmer.  You are not an officer.  You have no particular skills.  You are not of the ilk that we would normally select to join our crew.  However, we are willing to offer you a place here on the _Revelation_.”

            Rimmer was taken aback, “Why?” he asked blankly.

“Because,” Martinez smiled, “You can assist us.”  
“How?”  
“You have three crew members.  A service droid and two humanoids.”  
“So?”  
“I’m sure they would make an excellent addition to our ‘domestic’ division,” Martinez told him, “A service droid would be very useful.  And as for the other two, let’s just say they’d add some…variety…to what we currently have on offer.”  Rimmer narrowed his eyes.   
“I thought your ‘domestic division’ were kept for menial work.”  
“ _Mostly_ menial, I believe I said.”  Martinez was still smiling but it was a dangerous smile.  “I have no doubt that we could take your craft and your crew-mates by force, Mr Rimmer - but these affairs can be so messy.  There’s really no need for fighting if it can be avoided.  It would make matters easier for all involved if you were to go back to your friends, tell them what a friendly bunch we are here and invite them all for dinner.”  
“You want me to lure them here so you don’t have to go to the hassle of sending a squad to capture them?” Rimmer asked with disgust.  
“It would make things...tidier,” Martinez admitted, “We don’t want anyone to get _hurt_ now, do we?”  
“And in return for my…assistance…you would offer me a place in your crew?”  
“A place in the crew and all the privileges that go with it.  Officer status, luxurious quarters, an upgrade to your software.  And anything else you want.  There is little that it is not within our power to provide.”  
“And if I refuse?”  
“Then we will send you back to your dark, dingy little ship and you can take your chances.  You can be captured with your friends and live out the rest of your eternity scrubbing our floors or, if by some fluke you manage to escape us, you can spend it in that nasty damp transport vessel scavenging for survival.  It’s really up to you.”

            Rimmer licked his lips nervously, his simulated heartbeat racing.  He eyed the guards on the door.  Their blasters looked powerful and more reliable than the ancient bazookoids they had on Starbug that were just as likely to self-destruct in your hands as they were to fire.  There was little doubt in his mind that Starbug was outnumbered and overpowered.  The chances of them getting out of this were miniscule.  But all the same, if he went back to his crewmates with this message he knew all to well what the response would be.  _Spin on it_.  Lister would never surrender.  He’d go down fighting rather than submit to this.  And part of Rimmer knew that that should be Lister’s choice to make.  But underneath that was a persistent, insidious hiss that cut through everything else _‘Anything else you want…Everything you’ve ever wanted…’_

He clenched his fists, staring at the floor, “If I agree to this,” he said quietly, “You have to promise me something.”  The captain smiled broadly and leaned back in his chair.  “Of course.  What are your terms, Mr Rimmer?”  Rimmer looked up, his mouth set in a grim line of self-disgust.  “There’s just one,” he said.

 

           


	2. Chapter 2

Rimmer fidgeted nervously in his seat as Starbug approached the Revelation. “They want to help us,” he’d told his crew-mates when he’d been beamed back onboard, “They said they’ve got something that will help us find Red Dwarf.”  
“Why are they being so nice?” Lister asked, “Kryten said holo-crews are normally arrogant jerks. Why would they go out of their way to help us out?”  
“Does it matter?” Rimmer asked peevishly, “If they can get us off this sardine tin and back to Holly then I’m all for it.”  
“I’ll go with that,” Cat agreed firmly, “I’m running out of hairspray out here. And let’s face it, buddy, food supplies are not looking good either. Maybe not all dead-dudes are as obnoxious as Goalpost Head.”  
“We’ll see, won’t we?” Rimmer growled, glaring at him.

  
As Starbug eased its way into the landing bay, Rimmer reminded himself again that he was doing the right thing. Probably. Saving his shipmates from engaging in a fight they couldn’t possibly win. Protecting them from themselves, in fact. Okay, they might not appreciate being enslaved by a bunch of snooty megalomaniacs but it was better than a pointless fight to the death, surely? So what if he was getting something out of it too? He was definitely doing the right thing. By everyone. Yes, indeedy.  
He hung back as they stepped through the airlock and out into the landing bay. They were greeted by a semi-circle of armed guards, just as he knew they would be. “Whoa!” Lister put his hands in the air, “Take it easy! What is this?”  
“Flight Officer Rimmer,” the guard at the head of the squadron barked, “Mission accomplished. Report to the bridge for de-briefing.”  
“Flight Officer Rimmer?” Lister asked, baffled, “What’s he talking about?”  
Rimmer ignored him and saluted the guard, “Aye-aye, Sir. I hereby transfer these prisoners to your jurisdiction.”  
“Prisoners?” Lister repeated. Rimmer, his eyes fixed on the door, marched away without looking back. “Hang on just a minute!” Lister shouted after him, “What’s going on here? Rimmer!”  
“Silence!” The guard shouted, “You are now the property of the SS Revelation and its crew,” he motioned to two other members of his team, “Take the mech down to the kitchens. You two,” he addressed Lister and Cat, raising his weapon to eye-level, “Strip and place your clothes on the floor in front of you.”  
“Excuse me?” Lister said incredulously.  
“Hey, buddy, there’s no way I’m putting this suit on that dirty floor!” Cat replied.  
“Either you take them off,” the guard said shortly, “Or we take them off for you.”

  
Lister turned to Rimmer’s rapidly retreating back, “You Judas!” he shouted, “You sold us out, didn’t you? You set this whole thing up! Look at me, you bastard! Rimmer!” Rimmer hesitated for just a second in the doorway and glanced back over his shoulder, but he was too far away for Lister to read his expression. The guard cocked his weapon, “I’m giving you to the count of three,” he said calmly, “Then we’ll start doing things the hard way. One...Two...” Lister spun to glare at him, looked at the number of men and guns surrounding them, and knew that right now resistance would be pointless. Angrily, he unzipped his jacket and pulled it off. “Do it, man,” he said to Cat under his breath.  
“Are you serious?”  
“Right now we don’t have any choice. Do what they say.”  
“Oh, man!”  
“Just do it!”

  
Once they were naked, the guards stepped forward and snapped glowing blue holo-cuffs around their wrists. Their things were gathered up and taken away and they were marched at gunpoint into a lift and taken below decks. When they stepped out of the lift, they found themselves in what appeared to be a long dimly-lit dormitory, lined with low, narrow camp beds. At the far end was a damp, steamy wet room and at the other end a row of toilet cubicles. A locked rack containing lines of holo-whips took up one wall. There were a few indistinct shapes huddled under blankets on some of the beds but most were empty.

  
“Welcome to your new home,” the guard said with amusement, “I’m sure you’ll settle in very quickly. Let me explain a few basic ground rules. You will obey any command given to you by any crew member. You will address all crew members as ‘Sir’ or ‘Ma’am’ as appropriate. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will be courteous and obedient at all times. You are slaves to be used as our crew sees fit, whether that service is menial, domestic or sexual. Do you understand?”  
“Sexual?” Cat said hopefully, latching onto the one word that had interested him with a broad grin. Lister closed his eyes in despair. “Don’t get too excited, pal,” the guard said scornfully, “Most of the slaves down here are Symbi-Morphs and Pleasure Gelfs. There won’t be much demand for you boys unless someone upstairs fancies something a bit different. I imagine you’ll spend most of your time in the kitchens and the garbage disposal.” Cat’s grin disappeared.

  
“But all the same,” another guard chipped in, his voice ominously heavy with amusement, “Might as well get them looking presentable, eh?” There was a ripple of laughter and they were suddenly grabbed, man-handled into the wet room and shoved under the showers; which were turned on full-blast, drenching them in cold water. Cat squealed indignantly. Lister wiped the water out of his eyes as best as he could with his wrists shackled and took a deep breath. With any luck these guys were just jerks having fun with the new kids and not real sadists, hopefully they’d get bored quickly and leave them alone. “What do you think?” a voice piped up, “Are they clean enough yet?”  
“I don’t know. Let’s take a look.” They were dragged, shivering, back into the dormitory. The guard who’d pulled Lister out stroked one of his sodden locks, “You know, the pigtails are cute, Sweetheart, but I think they might be a little high maintenance for your new lifestyle. Don’t you agree, fellas?” They laughed unpleasantly.

“Guys...Come on...” Lister said uneasily.  
“No, you’re right,” one said, “I definitely think a shorter look would suit him. I say we give him a little restyle.” He pulled out a penknife and the others held Lister in place as he hacked off his dreadlocks. “Oh dear,” he said afterwards, “I guess we don’t have a mirror down here to show you what it looks like. But take our word for it, you look just adorable.”  
A radio crackled somewhere and a muffled order came through. They groaned. “Well, looks like we’ll have to leave you to get settled in now,” the head guard told them. “But don’t worry, we’ll be seeing you again soon.”  
“Make yourselves at home!” One of the others added. They filed back into the lift and left. Lister growled and threw himself down onto a bed. Cat was mewling pitifully, “My suit! They took my suit! I’m cold and wet and hungry!”  
“We only had lunch a couple of hours ago!”  
“But I’m hungry now!”  
“Will you stop moaning? You’re not the only one suffering here! Look what they did to my locks!”  
“Big deal!” Cat countered, “You were ugly with them, you’re ugly without them! What’s the difference? That suit was silk!”  
“Cat, I will injure you, I swear! Knock it off!”

  
Cat huddled down on the bed next to him, “What’s going to happen to us, bud?”  
“I don’t know,” Lister shook his head, “Maybe this isn’t what it seems, you know? Maybe Rimmer had to go along with it and he’s got some kind of plan to sneak us out of here tonight.”  
“Or maybe his plans for tonight are to get drunk and chase after some hot dead women,” Cat replied bitterly.  
“I know this looks bad,” Lister said desperately, “But I can’t believe he’d do this to us. Not without a reason.”  
“Really? Are we talking about the same guy here, because I reckon he’d do it like a shot.”  
“There must be more to this than meets the eye,” Lister insisted, “There has to be.”  
“Well,” Cat said hopefully, “At least we might get some action, right?”  
“You heard what they said. I wouldn’t hold your breath.”  
“But there’s bound to be some hot chicks up there, right?” Cat sounded desperate.  
“The thing about being a sex-slave, Cat,” Lister said patiently, “Is that you don’t get to choose.”  
“Are you seriously telling me that after one look at this,” Cat gestured to himself extravagantly, “The ladies won’t be queuing up for a piece?”  
“Cat,” Lister said exasperated, “Even if you do get called up for lovin’ duty, there’s no guarantee that it will be at a lady’s behest. Do you understand what I’m saying?”  
“You mean...?”  
“Yes! I mean.”  
“Oh, man!” Cat said again and burrowed under his blanket.


	3. Chapter 3

 

            Some time later, there was a clang as the lift doors banged open and a lone guard marched into the dormitory.  Lister, still huddled on a spare bed with Cat dozing beside him, looked up warily – as did the other slaves milling around.  He gave Cat a gentle nudge and he sat up too.  It was one of the men who’d brought them down earlier.  The guard scanned the room until his eyes found Lister, “You!  New boy!  On your feet!”  He marched over.

            Lister’s heart sank, he threw a desperate glance at Cat, who looked back at him helplessly.  Whatever happened next, they both knew, was out of their control.  “Now!” the guard bellowed.  Dejected, Lister climbed unenthusiastically to his feet.  The guard roughly grabbed his arm, “You’re wanted upstairs.  Move.”  He was escorted briskly into the lift.  As the doors closed he wondered vaguely if he should be more concerned about himself, or leaving Cat to cope alone.

After a couple of minutes the lift slowed and they emerged on what were clearly the habitation decks.  The guard marched Lister down the corridor and rapped sharply at a door on the left which hummed open.  Lister was shoved unceremoniously into the room. 

Rich wood panelling lined the walls, its deep colour intensified by the crimson carpet and silken curtains that hid the view of the stars outside.  A large four-poster bed dominated one end of the room, the columns and canopy studded with protruding metal rings.  Lister didn’t have time to be impressed by the surroundings, his eyes were fixed on the figure before him.

Rimmer was sitting at the foot of the bed, resplendent in his new scarlet and gold uniform, but his pale face was tense and anxious.  He wouldn’t look at Lister. 

The guard shoved Lister to his knees at Rimmer’s feet and swiftly linked his manacles to the rings on the bed so he couldn’t stand. “Thank you,” Rimmer said shortly, clearly uncomfortable, “That will be all.”   

“Enjoy,” the guard said with a lascivious grin.  Rimmer didn’t reply.

            Lister waited until he heard the door lock before speaking.  “You’d better tell me that you’ve dragged me up here to formulate some kind of escape plan,” he growled, his voice brimming with seething fury.  Rimmer avoided his gaze.  “I’m sorry,” he replied hollowly, “But no.  There’s no escape plan.”  Lister swallowed hard, fighting back the rage, the disappointment, the hurt, everything that was welling up inside him.  “How could you do this to us?  After everything, I mean ... _everything_...”

“I know,” Rimmer interrupted, “I’m a bastard.  I’m not proud of myself, Listy.  Please believe that.”

“Am I meant to feel _sorry_ for you?”

“No,” Rimmer still wouldn’t meet his eyes, “I don’t expect you to feel anything but loathing.”

“Just tell me why,” Lister demanded, “Tell me they threatened you.  Tell me they tortured you.  Tell me they held a gun to your head.  Anything, man.  Just help me understand.”  Rimmer put his face in his hands and shook his head silently.  “At least tell me it was worth it,” Lister shouted furiously, “Please tell me that you sold us all out for something more than a fancy bedroom and the chance to be called ‘Sir’!”      Rimmer stood up and went to the drinks cabinet, poured himself a whisky and knocked it back with a shaking hand.  “Yes,” he said hoarsely, “There was more.”  He turned and Lister craned a glance over his shoulder to try and see his face.  “You’re not going on the slave rota,” Rimmer told him, his voice eerily unsteady.  “You’ll be my personal slave. There’ll be no scrubbing the floors, no peeling potatoes, no fetching and carrying.  Nobody else will touch you.”

“Am I supposed to be grateful?” Lister asked angrily, “Is this your idea of some kind of _favour_?”

“It’s not a favour,” Rimmer replied quietly, “It was part of the deal.  I get a place in the crew, I get all of this.  The privileges, the lifestyle, the career.  And I get you.”

            Lister hesitated, “So this is your revenge, is that it?” he asked in disbelief, “This is payback for all the times I bucked your authority, wouldn’t do as I was told, called you a smeghead?”

“Maybe,” Rimmer said, “A little,”

“And what about the others?  They had to suffer too just so you could carry out this petty vendetta of yours?”

“I very much doubt that Kryten’s suffering right now.  He’s probably having the time of his life.”

“And Cat?” Lister asked pointedly.  Rimmer shrugged awkwardly.  “Of course,” Lister said bitterly, “Why did I even bother asking?  You don’t care about them.  I’m sure to you it was a very small price to pay to see me humiliated.  You probably would have sold them both for spare parts if it meant you got to watch me crawl.”

“I’d have thought about it,” Rimmer said weakly.

            “So where do we go from here then?  What’s my first task?” Lister asked sarcastically, “You want me to shine your boots for you?  Clean the bathroom?  Polish the furniture?  Whatever it is, I warn you now, I will make a _lousy_ job of it.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Rimmer said with bleak humour, “It doesn’t matter anyway.  I told you, there won’t be any of that for you.  That’s not why I did this.”

“So what then?” Lister asked, “What _do_ you want?”

“Haven’t you worked that out yet?” Rimmer asked softly.  Lister stared at him, uncomprehending.  Then his earlier words came back to him and their meaning hit home ( _nobody **else** will touch you_ ) and suddenly he understood.  He turned away, silent, stunned.  Shattered. 

“Lister...” Rimmer came to him, sat down again at the foot of the bed – which was just the right height, Lister now noticed, to bring his crotch to eye-level – and gently took his face in his hands.  Lister shook him off, “You can’t be serious,” he whispered, “Please tell me this is all just one big, sick joke.”

“It’s sick,” Rimmer admitted weakly, “I know it is, and I did it anyway.  But it’s not a joke.”

“If you wanted...” Lister couldn’t even say the words, “I mean, God, in all the years we’ve known each other, why wouldn’t you just _say_???”

“Why do you think?” Rimmer replied impatiently, “Because I’m a coward.  Because you would have rejected me.  Because it would have made all our lives impossible.  I saw the chance and I took it, knowing it was wrong, because there could never have been any other way.”

“And you thought I would just accept _this_?!” Lister exploded.

“No.  I knew you wouldn’t.  Not right away.  But now you don’t have any choice.”  He reached out to touch him and Lister pulled away roughly.  The chains around his wrists stopped him dead, underlining Rimmer’s words. 

            “Please,” Rimmer’s voice was pleading.  His hands, perversely gentle, stole into Lister’s dark curls and he pressed his lips to the side of his neck.  Lister, trapped, closed his eyes and turned his face away.  Rimmer’s lips travelled across his skin and lingered on the soft hollow at the base of his throat.  Against his own will, against all the anger and rage and every other emotion surging through him, Lister released a soft gasp.  It was the most intimate touch he’d received in too many years.  Encouraged, Rimmer moved in for a kiss; but once again Lister pulled away.  “Don’t you dare!  I can’t even look at you, man!  I cannot believe that you betrayed us all, destroyed our whole lives, sold what was left of your shrivelled, weasely soul, all because you were too damn scared to ask me for a smegging _date!!!_ ” his voice rose hysterically.

“There’s more to it than that,” Rimmer pinched at the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, well, share with me!  Please!” Lister sounded on the edge of meltdown.

            Rimmer stood up abruptly and went back to the drinks cabinet to pour another double.  This, he knew, was going to be the really hard part.  He hadn’t expected the rest to be easy by any means, but that one little gasp had given him an inkling that perhaps _some_ things might be easier than he’d ever dared hope.  He gulped down the drink and drew in a deep, trembling breath. 

“Even,” he said tremulously, “If I had approached you...even if you’d said yes...there’s something you have to understand.”

“Which is?” Lister asked, not even bothering to try and look at him as he said it.

“There are things that I want...things that I need...that you would never have agreed to give.  Not willingly.”

“You amaze me,” Lister replied weakly, “Go on then, tell me.  The excitement is just too much.”

            Behind him, he heard a soft hum and a staticky swish.  He swallowed hard.  He knew that sound.  “So that’s it,” he whispered, “That’s your dirty secret.”

“Yes.”

“You’re right.  I would never have agreed.”

“I know.  That’s why it has to be this way.”  Rimmer’s footsteps were silent on the thick carpet, but the holo-whip hummed and sang with every movement he made.  He put a tentative hand on the back of Lister’s neck.  “It’s not so bad,” he said pleadingly, “It’s just one little thing.  And I promise you, I will do everything I can to make up for it.  I will try and make you happy.  I will make your life as pleasant as I possibly can.  I will treat you well.  But I need this.  And, to begin with at least, so will you.”

“Really,” Lister was unconvinced.

“Yes.  Really.  It’s the only way you’ll come to accept this.  That you are mine now.  That there is no way out, no escape, that you belong to me totally.  That everything else, the whole world outside that door, is no longer of any importance to you.”

“You’ve been practising this speech, haven’t you?” Lister remarked snidely.

            There was a sudden flash of pain across his back and he cried out.  “No more impertinence now.  I’m not just your superior anymore.  I’m your master.”

“You’re insane!” Lister snarled.

“Wrong answer.  The right answer is ‘Yes, Sir.’”

“Fuck you!”

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Lister.”

“Why not?  You’ll get your kicks either way, right?”   

“Is this really how you want it?”

“Do your worst, Rimmer.  I am not playing this sick game of yours!  I won’t do it!”

“We’ll see about that.”  The holo-whip hummed ominously behind him and Lister screwed his eyes shut, pressing his forehead down into the bedspread before him.  He knew how much this was going to hurt, but dammit, he wasn’t going to beg.  He braced himself as best he could, but when the lash came he still couldn’t help the cry of pain that escaped him.  “Just say it, Lister.  It will be over sooner if you do.”

“Go to hell!” he choked out.

“Have it your way,” Rimmer crossed the room and unwound the scarlet silk curtain-tie from its place, “But now you don’t get the chance to tell me you’ve changed your mind.”  He bound it tightly round Lister’s mouth, pulling it back hard between his teeth and knotting it in place.  Then he swung the whip again. 

            It wasn’t the most sophisticated gag, but it was effective.  Lister’s cries of pain were reduced to muffled whimpers behind the thick silk.  The holo-whip left no real damage, but soon Lister’s back and buttocks were well on the way to matching the red of the gag.  Occasionally Rimmer would pause and go to him, free his mouth and ask the same question.  Lister would spit another insult and Rimmer would sigh and take up the whip once more.  Lister needed this, he told himself, and if he stopped now he’d be failing them both.  Soon Rimmer was sweating from the exertion; he slipped off his new uniform and carried on regardless.  It seemed to go on forever.  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lister let out a long, hopeless scream.  A howl of pain, desperation but also...defeat. 

            Trembling, Rimmer dropped the whip and went to him.  He gently pulled the gag from his mouth, damp with tears and saliva, and asked the question.  “Are you mine, Lister?”  Instead of another barbed reply, there was a choked sob.  Rimmer’s hair, and his cock, stood on end.  He asked again, his voice soft, his fingers gently stroking the back of Lister’s neck.  “Say it, Lister.”

“Yes, Sir...” was the tearful, whispered reply.  Rimmer dropped to his knees behind him in delirium, his cock almost brimming over.  “Say it again.”  Lister moaned and Rimmer lightly dragged his nails across the raw bruised flesh of his buttocks, making him moan louder still. “Say it!”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Louder!”

“ _Yes, Sir!_ ”

            Euphoric, Rimmer ran his hands over Lister’s quivering body, marvelling at the heat of his tender, burning skin.  “Very good,” he said softly.

 

  

           

 


	4. Chapter 4

            After a few moments, Rimmer placed his finger on the release catch for Lister’s shackles and lifted him onto the bed.  “You’re...letting me...loose...?” he gasped out breathlessly.

“Why not?” Rimmer said quietly, “The door’s locked and you’re in no condition to run.”

“I could punch you in the face,” Lister remarked hoarsely.  Rimmer smiled grimly,

“Yes, but I don’t think you will.  For a start, it would hurt your hand more than it would hurt me.  And more importantly, I’d be forced to punish you.  I don’t think you want that right now, do you?”

“No,” Lister whispered weakly.

Rimmer went to the bathroom and returned with a tub of healing cream.  He daubed some onto Lister’s back and he moaned in agony.  “If I do this now,” Rimmer admonished, “It will hurt less tomorrow.”  He rubbed it in as gently as he could.  “I didn’t expect you to hold out as long as you did,” he added, almost apologetically.

“If I’d held out any longer would you have given up?” Lister whispered dejectedly.

“No,” Rimmer said honestly, “And I wouldn’t have bothered with the salve tonight either.”

 

            The next morning Lister awoke to see Rimmer up and dressed, fixing his chains to the bedpost.  He reached up, still fuggy-headed from sleep, and felt the warm hum of a holo-collar around his neck.  The events of the previous night filtered back into his mind in the same way a bad dream will slip away, only becoming more vivid instead of less.  He struggled upright and his back lit up with pain like a warning flare.  He moaned, screwing his eyes shut.  “How are you feeling?” Rimmer asked somewhat sheepishly. 

“Oh god...” was all Lister managed. 

“Here,” Rimmer dropped the tub of cream onto the bed covers, “Put this on as best you can.  It will help.  I’ve got to go to work.” 

“Work?” Lister repeated, dazed.

“I know it’s not a word you’re overly familiar with, but yes.  Work.”

“But...” Lister reached for the collar anxiously, “You mean, you’re just going to leave me chained up like this?”

“I left a lot of leeway.  You can move around a bit if you need to.”

“Come on, man!  The smegging door is locked, is this really necessary?”

“I don’t trust you,” Rimmer said simply, “If nothing else, at least this way I know you can’t jump me when I get back.”

“But...what am I supposed to do all day?”

“Same thing you normally do.  Lie in bed and slob.”

“With no curry, no booze, no films...”

“Here.  You always said you wanted to read a book someday,” Rimmer smirked, tossing him a copy of _Wuthering_ _Heights_.

            After he’d gone, Lister had rubbed on some of the cream as best as he could, then tried to find out just how much freedom he had.  He could get up off the bed and go as far as the small bookshelf beneath the porthole, and he could make it – just – to the toilet in the ensuite which was thankfully not on the other side of the room.  But he couldn’t get anywhere close to the door of the quarters or, annoyingly, the drinks cabinet.  Rimmer had obviously given this some thought.

            He tried pulling at the shackles holding him to the bed, hoping one of the metal rings might snap, but to no avail.  As a last resort he tried dragging the bed closer to the door but its immense weight was too much; it wouldn’t budge and he was well aware that even if he could have moved it, he couldn’t have made a very effective escape pulling it after him down the hallway.  There was nothing else for it...

            Hours later when Rimmer had returned, Lister was sprawled disconsolately on the covers and the book was discarded at the foot of the bed.  “Not to your taste?” he enquired sweetly.

“Finished it,” Lister replied flatly. 

“Already?” Rimmer was astounded.  “Did you enjoy it?” he asked blankly.  _Not as much as I’d enjoy beating you senseless with it_ , Lister thought to himself but the lingering sting of the holo-whip on his back made him hold his tongue.

“Yeah,” he said, forcing himself to remain civil, even if he couldn’t force any warmth into his voice.  “Got any more?”

            To Rimmer’s astonishment, and his own, he’d taken to this reading business.  He tore through books at a speed which Rimmer could only dream of competing with.  Of course, it wasn’t like there was much else he could do.  Although he was usually allowed free in the evenings when Rimmer returned, he was always shackled to the bed during the day, leaving him with rather limited options.  He could read, he could sleep, he could daydream.  That was about it. 

Weeks went by and a month or so after they’d come aboard the _Revelation_ , Lister found himself lying alone on the bed with a copy of Orwell’s _1984_ , and suddenly realised he was wishing Rimmer would hurry up and come home.   

            He’d rolled over and stared up at the red velvet canopy, the book half-open at his side, temporarily forgotten.  The sudden sense of shame burnt like fire.  It was a strange and dreadful thing but, as time went on, he was finding more and more often that he needed to remind himself that he shouldn’t _want_ Rimmer around.  He kept forgetting how much he should hate him.  Forgetting that this room was not _home_.  And then he hated himself for forgetting it; for accepting the servitude he’d been forced into so quickly, for having stopped even trying to escape weeks ago.    

            It wasn’t his fault, he kept telling himself.  It was natural to crave company, to crave contact; and whatever Rimmer had done, he was now the only point of contact Lister had in life.  The only person to talk to, the only person to talk _with_ , the only person he ever saw.  He had made himself, inescapably, Lister’s entire world.  How was he supposed to deal with that?  He couldn’t avoid him.  He couldn’t _not_ speak to him.  He couldn’t maintain the constant anger.  Sometimes when he awoke lazily late in the morning (or early in the afternoon) he would roll over or stretch contentedly and it was only when the sound of his chains clinked tauntingly against the bedpost that he would remember where he was, what Rimmer had done, and then occasionally the anger would return afresh and burn futilely for a few hours while he punched at the bed covers; hating Rimmer, this place – and himself.  Sometimes he couldn’t manage even that; just a small flash of annoyance that would gradually flicker and die; and then, either way, he would settle down and read until Rimmer came home, because what else could he do? 

            Eventually Rimmer would come in from work, pour a drink and talk about his day.  And Lister, despite himself, eventually found he was actually listening to him because it wasn’t like anything interesting ever happened in _his_ day.  Rimmer would ask what Lister was reading, how far he’d got.  They would... _chat_...in a self-conscious kind of way over dinner.  Over time it became less self-conscious and more like a routine.  It began to feel frighteningly normal.  A peculiar sort of domesticity had come into their relationship.  Gradually, even Lister’s nakedness had begun to feel natural, unimportant. 

            Part of the difficulty was that in many ways his situation wasn’t entirely unpleasant.  Spending his days eating, sleeping and fucking was not strenuous and frankly would have sounded like a good deal in any other circumstances; and to be fair, since the violence of that first crazy night, Rimmer really _had_ treated him quite well.  In fact, sometimes it felt like Rimmer was more his slave than the other way around.  Rimmer brought him food - and often fed it to him by hand.  Rimmer bathed him, massaged him, brought him little gifts and new books to read.  But unfortunately, of course, there was still the damn whip.

            He knew Rimmer tried not to use it too often.  He didn’t need to.  There had been the odd time when Lister had gotten a little too comfortable and been cheeky, or sarcastic, when retribution had been swift and sharp, but he had learnt his lesson quickly enough.  More often than not it would come when he least expected it, in the moments of greatest tenderness.  He would be lying in Rimmer’s arms when the order would come, whispered as sweetly as a kiss, “On your knees, Lister.”

“What?  Why?  What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything.  I just...need it.”

“Oh, come on.  Please, man.  I’ll do that thing you like...with your toes...and then I’ll rub your shoulders for you.  Please.”

“Listy, you should know by now that begging only makes it worse.  And you can still do the toe thing afterwards.”  Bargaining, Lister had quickly learnt, didn’t work; especially when you held no chips.

            Normally it wasn’t much anyway, just a few sharp lashes to remind him who the master was.  All he had to do was make the right noises, say the right words, and Rimmer was usually satisfied quite quickly.  In all honesty it hurt his pride more than his body, and even that was becoming easier with time.  And there had never been anything like that first night...but it didn’t stop Lister dreading that there might be.

Despite all that, it was the sex that had been the biggest hurdle.  He had waited uneasily for days as his bruises healed from the whipping but, aside from basic care, Rimmer hadn’t touched him.  Every time he had climbed into the bed beside him, Lister had tensed anxiously but nothing had been forthcoming.  Not so much as a chaste kiss good-night.  It had been almost two weeks when at last one night before bed, Rimmer had fastened his restraints more tightly than usual and Lister immediately knew what was coming.  When Rimmer had come to him, nuzzling up as shyly as a teenager making his first play, Lister had almost laughed at the absurdity of it.  Here it was, the whole reason why Rimmer had done this terrible, unforgivable thing to him – to all of them – and even now, with Lister imprisoned and in chains, he didn’t have the nerve to just take what he wanted.  Lister wondered if he even really knew what he wanted.

            They lay together silently in the darkness while Rimmer’s hands stroked and explored him with such nervousness that he seemed to be expecting someone to march in and slap a ruler across his knuckles at any moment.  When Lister had felt his fingers trail lightly downwards towards his crotch...and then stop, he felt compelled to speak.  “Rimmer?”  Rimmer actually jumped in surprise.  It was the first sound there had been in the room for several minutes.  “Yes?”

“You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to,” Rimmer said, almost apologetically.

“Then do me a favour will you, man?”

“What?”

“I could ask you not to do this.  I could ask you to stop.  To let me go and pretend that none of this ever happened, to forget we ever knew each other.  But I don’t think you would.  So I’m just going to ask you this.”  He stared hard into Rimmer’s guilty eyes, “If you’re going to do this to me, man, then at least enjoy it.  Go crazy, do whatever the hell you want, just make sure it was worth it.  Otherwise what was all this for?  Don’t tell me you destroyed my life and forced me into slavery so we could play Risk.”

“I...” Rimmer was trembling all over, “...I want you.  So much.”

“So what are you waiting for…Sir?”

            Oddly enough, even after that little pep talk, it had all been incredibly gentle and tentative.  He had no doubt that Rimmer had enjoyed it, the evidence was – well – evident, but the experience left Lister feeling strangely lost.  If he had been lying there with tears on his face and bruises on his body just like the first night he’d spent in this bed it would have been different.  He could have summoned up some emotion; anger, despair, revulsion, something, anything.  Instead he had lain awake afterwards, listening to Rimmer snore, thinking _‘Well...that could have gone worse’_ and wondering why he didn’t want to kill himself.  He would not admit that it was because this - this vulgar physical act - meant nothing to him, was irrelevant now. In Lister’s head, the real rape, the real violation, had already happened when he’d first caved to the whipping and called Rimmer ‘Sir’.

            The next time, and the time after, had been very much the same, except Rimmer had grown in confidence and didn’t seem to be fighting the urge to apologise to him every few seconds.  Eventually one night, somewhat to his own surprise, Lister had had an orgasm.  Rimmer had stared at him with astounded awe, as if he’d pulled a rabbit out of a hat.  It didn’t take long after that before he found himself arching into Rimmer’s touch when it came, utterly ashamed, but doing it all the same.  He was only human, he told himself repeatedly, and this – however wrong – was the closest thing he’d had to love in far too long.  Sometimes in those fleeting minutes of ecstasy he could even forget he was a prisoner. 

            The worst moment had been the first time Rimmer had taken him without bothering with the chains.  Ironically, it made him feel more like a slave than anything else he’d endured, including the whipping.  Locked in his restraints he could almost maintain some level of dignity, remind himself – and Rimmer - that this was not his fault, not his choice.  But when there was just the two of them in bed together - no cuffs, no collars, no chains - that was different.  He couldn’t hide behind the paraphernalia.  It was admitting that they both knew the score, exposing what they both knew to be the truth.  That even if Lister could resist......he wouldn’t.  The chains were in his head now.  He’d accepted his helplessness, accepted his fate.  Rimmer had won.

           

 


	5. Chapter 5

            One afternoon, while Rimmer was still out at work, Lister suddenly felt a strange twitch, like a small electric shock.  He sat up and rubbed his neck, annoyed.  It took him a moment to realise that his collar was gone.  He looked down, as if for confirmation, and yes – there were the chains that had held him captive all this time, puddled harmlessly on the rumpled bed covers.  He stood up very slowly, half expecting this to be a dream or hallucination that would end at any moment.  It didn’t. 

            He went to the door.  The fingerprint panel was dead.  The security systems must have gone down.  And that meant...

            He very cautiously pushed at the door.  It opened.  He let it fall closed again and stared at it, frozen in indecision.  Even if he left the room, what then?  Where could he go?  His nakedness gave him away as a slave and it wasn’t even as if he could steal some clothes and disguise himself.  Holograms didn’t need materials, their clothes were part of their projection.  They just switched the programs round as they wished.  He’d just be caught, dragged back here and punished for trying to escape.  Lister didn’t need to be told what Rimmer would do to him for _that_.  His gaze went to the locked cabinet where Rimmer kept the holo-whip and he bit down nervously on his lip.

            But...what if this was his only chance?  What if the alternative was a lifetime of imprisonment in this room?  Could he live with himself if he turned away from this door, climbed back into bed and waited for Rimmer to come home and refasten his chains?  Was he really ready to accept a future of slavery rather than take the risk of a little pain?  Well, alright, a _lot_ of pain.  But if he _could_ escape, if he _could_ get to Cat and Kryten, if they _could_ somehow get to Starbug and get away from this place, wasn’t that worth the risk?  Didn’t he owe it to them – after all, they were slaves here, the same as him. 

            He tentatively pushed the door open again and peeked out into the corridor.  It was empty but he could hear voices faintly in the distance.  He swallowed hard.  If someone caught him, there was a good chance he wouldn’t even be handed back to Rimmer right away.  Whoever found him might indulge in a little punishment – and fun – of their own first.  Maybe someone who wouldn’t be quite as kind as Rimmer had been.  The voices drew nearer and he darted back inside and leaned against the door, heart pounding.

            What should he do, what should he do?  He couldn’t stop the voices arguing in his head.  _Are you crazy?  Run, man!  Run like the wind! – But they’ll catch me! – So what if they do? – They’ll hurt me!!! - Yes, but they won’t kill you – They might do worse – Worse than what you’ve been through already? – Maybe – But at least you would know for certain.  At least you would know you’d tried – He’ll be so angry though – But he’ll forgive you, you know he will – What if he doesn’t? – Why do you care?_

            As he stood deliberating, he heard footsteps hurrying along the corridor outside, coming closer.  Rimmer.  He backed away anxiously from the door towards the bed, excuses already leaping to the forefront of his brain; _I didn’t do anything! I wasn’t going to...I didn’t try to..._

            “Bud?  Buddy, where are you?  Hey, Dormouse cheeks!”  Lister straightened up.  That certainly wasn’t Rimmer.  He peeped anxiously around the door, “Cat?”

“Buddy!”  A flash of sequins knocked him backwards and he found himself lying on the floor with his favourite feline licking his cheek.  “There you are!  I knew I could smell you nearby!”

“What are you doing?  What’s going on?”  Lister moved him back firmly and saw a Symbi-morph hovering in the doorway, holding an armful of clothes.  “Mutiny,” it told him simply, “The slaves are revolting.”

“Seriously?”

“We have control of the ship.  All the doors have been unlocked, all the shackles and the whips de-activated.  Now we are making checks of the sleeping quarters to free any remaining slaves and round-up any hiding holograms.”

“How did this happen?” Lister was astounded.

“Cat led the revolt.  It seems that hard-light holograms stand up well to punches but not so well to claws.”

“You?!” Lister turned to Cat in amazement.

“They tried to make me clean a toilet!” he yowled.  Lister paused for a moment and considered a handful of the things he’d had to endure in this room over the past few weeks.  “Well,” he remarked dryly, “I suppose every man has his limits.”

            “Here,” Cat took the bundle of clothes from his new friend and thrust them into Lister’s arms, “I found your things.  Go put them on and let’s get out of here.  I’ve had enough of staring at your monkey-bits.”    

“Well, then stop looking,” Lister replied testily.  He dropped the pile on the bed and started to get dressed as quickly as possible.  Strangely, he would have preferred a little privacy for this.  He’d become so accustomed to nakedness that the simple ritual of dressing himself now felt peculiar – and personal.  Even his old, familiar clothes felt like strangers on his body.  Once he was clothed, he followed Cat and the Symbi down through the corridors to the Drive Room           

 

The holograms were huddled together in the centre of the room, shackled with their own holo-cuffs and surrounded by former slaves holding holo-whips.  By the way some of them were whimpering, Lister guessed that a few ladlefuls of retribution had already been dished out.  Kryten was in the far corner, sorting methodically through a pile of keycards.  “Ah, now this one’s for a Blue Midget F-Series...Anyone have one of those?  It’s the standard version, not the GTI.  Okay, here you go.  And this one...let me see...A Supernova SLR!  Oh my goodness, I’ve never actually seen one of those outside a showroom before.  What kind of mileage are you getting on that baby, Sirs?”  He looked across and saw Lister, “Oh, Mister Lister, there you are!  Are you okay, Sir?”

“I’m good, Kryten, I’m good.”  Lister gently pulled him aside, “Have you found the key to Starbug yet?”

“Right here, Sir,” Kryten held it up dutifully.

“You realise that the more of these you give out, the fewer people are going to be left in here to guard these bastards.  I think before we go any further with this, we need to work out what we’re going to do with this lot.”

“Switch them off!” A GELF hovering by Lister’s shoulder bellowed, “Pull the plug on the whole damn ship!”  This was met with a roar of approval.  Lister waved for quiet, “Okay, okay.  I see the attraction of that plan,” he admitted, “But the problem is that it involves someone being left here on the ship to cut the power.  And once that person cuts the power, they will suddenly find themselves in deep space, with no ship surrounding them.  Now call me over-cautious but I hear that that kind of thing can lead to bodily explosion and death, which is probably not the way forward.  Unless we have any volunteers?”  Silence.  “I didn’t think so.”

            “We could lock them in the cargo bay,” Cat’s new friend suggested.

“They’d just switch themselves to soft-light and walk out again, Sir,” Kryten shook his head, “It wouldn’t give us sufficient time to get away.”

“But if you could interface with the computer,” the Symbi persisted, “We could over-ride the preferences.  We could jam all the settings on hard-light.  It would give us longer to get away and it has the added bonus that if they don’t find a way out of the cargo bay in time, it will drain their power and they’ll shut down anyway.”

“I suppose that could work,” Kryten shared a glance with Lister, who looked uneasy.

“They’d find a way out before the power died, right?” he asked softly.

“Who cares?” Cat interjected.

“Probably, Sir.  After all, they were resurrected for their great intelligence.  And survival is a great motivator.”

“Yeah,” Lister hesitated, “I suppose.”

“I’d estimate they would have a good twelve hours before the power shut down completely.” Kryten added.

“No-one could say we didn’t give them a fighting chance,” the Symbi said hotly.  A chorus of agreement rippled through the crowd.  “Yeah!  Do it!  Do it!”  Kryten turned to Lister, “With your permission, Sir.”

            Lister fixed him with a stare, “Twelve hours,” he repeated.

“A conservative estimate, Sir.  It could be closer to fifteen.”  Lister hesitated for a second longer.  “Okay,” he said finally.  “Okay, whatever.  Do it.”  Kryten nodded and went over to the mainframe.  He opened his chest hatch and plugged himself in.  After a few minutes he returned.  “There.  Everything’s set.”

“Right then.  Let’s get these dead assholes locked up!”

            The former prisoners started to shove the cowed holograms out of the room in a herd.  Lister watched as they shuffled past, telling himself that he didn’t care.  That he wasn’t looking for a face in the crowd...that was suddenly looking back at him with desperate, mournful, hazel eyes.  Lister swallowed hard.   _Think of what he did to you.  You’d still be chained up like an animal if it was up to him.  Twelve hours is a long time.  And it’s more like fifteen hours anyway.  Even if they don’t make it out, it’s no less than he deserves.  It’s what they all deserve..._

“Wait a second!” he snatched a holo-whip from one of the rear-guards and grabbed Rimmer’s arm, hauling him roughly out of the crowd.  “What are you doing?” Cat demanded, clearly aghast.

“We should take a hostage,” Lister said quickly, refusing to meet either Cat’s gaze or Rimmer’s.  “What for?  We’ve got them where we want them!  And it’s not like they’re going to give a damn about what happens to this back-stabbing, cowardly, Grease-stain!”

“It’s just a precaution,” Lister said stiffly, “I’d rather have something up my sleeve if we need it, wouldn’t you?”

“But why _him_?”

“Because,” Lister snapped, “We can count on him not to try anything heroic.”

“Sirs,” Kryten interjected gently, “I believe the situation here is under control.  Now might be a good time for us to take Starbug and make good our escape?”

“Right, let’s go,” Lister said firmly, putting an end to the argument.  He thrust the holo-whip at Cat, “Here.  If he even looks like he’s _thinking_ of doing a runner, you know what to do.”  He turned to make his way down to the landing deck and heard a crack and a yelp.  He spun round.  “Just testing,” Cat said innocently.

             


	6. Chapter 6

            The silence on Starbug as they flew away was deeply uncomfortable.  Lister could feel Rimmer’s eyes on him but he refused to look at him.  Cat was sulking.  Kryten was puzzled.  As soon as he heard the short musical sound of the auto-pilot being engaged, Lister got to his feet and made for his quarters.  He couldn’t bear the tension.  “Where are you going?” Cat asked moodily.

“Bed,” he replied shortly.

“Great,” Cat said sarcastically, “So what do we do about _him_?” He bared his teeth at Rimmer, who cringed back in his seat.  Lister risked a fleeting glance at the crumpled hologram, “I’d start by sorting out a different outfit for him.  Remind him that he’s not an officer on this ship.”

“You’re letting him get away with what he did?!” Cat asked in angry disbelief,  “You’re actually going to let him back in here like nothing happened?”

“No,” Lister said shortly, “I’m not.  But if anyone is going to deal out punishment here it’s going to be me.  Understand?”

“How come you get all the fun?” Cat grumbled.  Lister’s eyes flashed dangerously for a moment and he took a deep breath to compose himself.  “Because,” he said icily, “This may horrify you, man, but there are worse things in the world than having to clean a toilet.”  He flicked the briefest possible glance at Rimmer before walking out.  “I’ll deal with you later.”

            He went to his quarters and locked the door behind him.  The room felt like a time capsule – everything exactly where he’d left it, down to the dirty socks scattered round the laundry basket that Kryten had never had a chance to tidy up.  This was where his old life was waiting, ready for him to pick up where he’d left off as if nothing had happened.  He walked around, picking things up and putting them down again.  He thought, bizarrely, of the Chronicles of Narnia.  This was how it felt to tumble out of the wardrobe and find that despite everything you’d been through that the world hadn’t changed one jot while you were gone.  Although, he mused, if they made this little adventure into a film it would have to be x-rated.  He lay down on the bed and stared at the wall, then decided he’d done enough of that lately and sat down at the table instead.

            He felt oddly shaken.  It had been weeks since he’d had to take charge of a situation, or tell anyone what to do, or to make a decision about _anything_.  He’d agreed to their escape plan in a moment of flustered panic, because he couldn’t think of anything else, but now he wasn’t certain he’d done the right thing.  The holograms on the _Revelation_ certainly hadn’t been pleasant specimens of humanity, but if they didn’t find a way out of the hold then they were, effectively, all going to die.  Kryten had seemed fairly confident that they would find a way, but Lister couldn’t shake the anxiety.  Because if they didn’t, then he’d just sentenced an entire ship to death.  Did they really deserve that?  Had he let his anger overwhelm his principles?

            And _why_ had he brought Rimmer back with them?  Cat was right, they didn’t need a hostage and it was highly unlikely that anyone on that ship gave a toss about him anyway.  He’d bought his place, not earned it, so any use he might have been as a bargaining tool was negligible.  He could hardly go back to being a functioning member of Starbug’s crew after what he’d done.  They could never trust him again and even if somehow Cat and Kryten found it in their hearts to forgive him...could he?  How could the two of them ever live together, work together, _exist_ together on this ship after what had passed between them these last few weeks?

 

            It was several hours later when he finally made the trip to Rimmer’s quarters.  He was sitting on his bunk, shoulders hunched, looking utterly depressed.  Lister noted the shiny red suit; he’d switched himself to soft-light.  Most likely to avoid whatever obscenely painful retribution Cat had threatened him with.  Lister leaned back against the door, arms folded, and looked at him uneasily.  He didn’t know what to say.  He didn’t even know where to start.  

In the end it was Rimmer who spoke first.  “This time last night,” he said sadly, “I was feeding you strawberry trifle with a silver spoon.”  Lister reeled slightly; he hadn’t been prepared for _that_.

“Don’t,” he said sharply.

“Don’t what?”

“Just don’t!”  Lister didn’t want or need any reminders of what their relationship had been only a few hours ago.  Just being here together back on Starbug, back in this room, was freaky enough.  He caught a glimpse of the two of them reflected in the mirror on the far wall and it was like looking into the past.  Rimmer in his red uniform, him in his worn leathers.  It was all so normal, everything as it should be, the only clue that anything had changed in his missing dreadlocks, but none of it felt real.  Here he was, standing in front of Rimmer with his clothes on for the first time in weeks but it didn’t feel comforting or empowering like it ought to.  It felt more like a weirdly kinky sex game.  It felt like play-acting, like dressing-up - ‘I’ll be Lister and you be Rimmer’.  Only they weren’t anymore.  Not like they were before.

            Rimmer stared down at his hands.  “The revolt,” he said quietly, “Was that your handiwork?”

“No,” Lister replied shortly.  His voice came out sounding defensive and he wasn’t sure why, “It was Cat.  If you must know.”

“That brainless moggy?”

“Are you really that surprised?  You know he doesn’t do the ‘W’ word,” Lister reminded him dryly.  “And you had nothing to do with it?” Rimmer pressed.

“How could I?” Lister asked hotly, “You think I was communicating with the rebel horde through psychic waves?  I hadn’t seen anyone other than you for _weeks_!”

“Alright,” Rimmer relented graciously, “I believe you.” 

Lister floundered.  Rimmer was acting like the one who’d been betrayed here because Lister had had the nerve to escape?  “You know,” he countered angrily, “You could say you’re sorry.  Any time, man.  Just throw it out there whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m not sorry,” Rimmer replied matter-of-factly.  Lister stared at him, shocked.  This meeting was not going as expected.  He’d thought Rimmer would be wheedling for forgiveness, full of excuses; _‘Listy!  About what happened back there...Huge misunderstanding, not my fault in the slightest...’_ He hadn’t been prepared for this.  “You’re not sorry,” he repeated flatly.

“No,” Rimmer stood up, “I know you deserve an apology for what I did, but you’re not getting one.  These past few weeks with you have been the happiest of my life.  Life _and_ death.  I don’t regret it one smegging bit.”

“And I suppose my feelings don’t matter at all?” Lister asked, dazed.  Rimmer brushed the question aside, “I know it’s not necessarily what you’d have chosen, but don’t pretend there weren’t moments when we were happy.”  Lister was speechless.  “You told me,” Rimmer reminded him, “To make the most of it.  To make it worthwhile.  I think I did.  And I’d do it again in a second.”

“You’ve lost it, man,” Lister said, shaking his head, “You haven’t just lost the plot, you’re on the wrong side of town for the whole smegging allotment.”

“So switch me off.  It was still worth it.”

“Maybe I should!” Lister snapped, “What was I thinking bringing you back here anyway?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.  It’s not like I threw myself on your mercy - I didn’t expect any.  There’s no reason why you couldn’t have left me.”

“What, so you could live out the rest of eternity in your fancy suite, sipping drinks with some other poor sod chained to your bed?” Lister snapped, “You’d have liked that, wouldn’t you?”

“No,” Rimmer replied, “I wouldn’t.”

“Oh, right.  You’d much rather be in here drinking urine re-cyc with us.”

“I’d rather be where you are.  Wherever that is.”

            “Stop it!” Lister raged suddenly, “Just stop it!  Cut it out!”

“Stop what?”

“Stop trying to.... _romanticise_ what you did!  You have no right to be moping about acting like some tragic hero because I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life as a prisoner.”

“Well, would that really have been so bad?”

“How can you even _ask_ me that???”

“Because I don’t think you _were_ entirely unhappy being a prisoner.  I think you escaped with the others because you thought it was what you _should_ want, not because it was what you _did_ want.”

“That’s crazy!  It doesn’t even make sense!  As soon as Cat found me...”

“Cat found you?  Where?”

“In the room.”

“With the door unlocked and no restraints?”

“I didn’t know what was happening!”

“And you weren’t curious to find out?  That’s not the Listy I know.”

“I tried the door!”

“And it was open.  So why didn’t you run?”  Lister opened his mouth and closed it again quickly, biting back what he’d been about to say.  There was no way he was going to say to Rimmer, ‘ _Because I was scared’._

             “So,” Rimmer said slowly, obviously enjoying his silence.  “Let me get this straight.  The exit was right there in front of you.  But instead of legging it and taking your chances, you waited for me to come back and tell you what a good boy you’d been.  My word, I trained you even better than I thought.”

“Shut up,” Lister snarled, “That’s not how it happened.”

“No?”

“No!  Don’t you dare talk about me like I’m a dog you _trained_ to sit while the master’s away!  If I’d known the score I would have been out of there quicker than you can fail an exam!”  Rimmer narrowed his eyes.  “There’s such a thing as self-preservation, man.  Don’t delude yourself that I was waiting for you to come back and sweep me into your arms.  I just didn’t want to be flayed alive again if you caught me!  I wanted to make sure the coast was clear so I could get away from you for good!”

Rimmer winced, clearly stung, but fired back, “Yet here we both are.  And you still haven’t told me why.”

“Because you didn’t deserve the life you’d have had if I’d left you,” Lister told him sulkily.  “Oh, yes.  You said.  The fancy lifestyle, the slaves at my beck and call.  But I don’t think that’s the truth.  At least not the whole truth.”  He looked at Lister closely, “I wonder if they’ve found a way out yet.  The power supply must be getting low by now.”

“I couldn’t give a smeg,” Lister replied with a little too much force, “If they all get switched off then the universe will be well rid.”

“And what about me?  Are you going to turn me off too, now that you’ve escaped successfully and I’ve served my purpose?”

“That’s what Cat wants to do.”

“That’s not what I asked.”  Lister glared at him for a moment before replying.

“No.  I’m not going to switch you off.  Although I probably should.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t kid yourself that it’s for any sentimental reasons, man,” Lister snapped, “We gave those others a fighting chance.  If we turned you off here and now that would be different.  That would be execution.  I don’t want that on my conscience, however much you deserve it.”

“So what then?  You told Cat you’d be the one dealing out punishment, so what’s my sentence, Listy?  What are you going to do?”

            Lister braced himself.  This was why he’d come here and he was going to see it through.  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a familiar object.  He pushed the button on the handle and the long blue lash hummed into life and slithered to the floor.  Turning himself to soft-light wasn’t going to save him from _this_ payback.  “On your knees, Rimmer.”

            Rimmer looked at the whip with a slightly sick expression, “I see,” he said weakly.  Suddenly, he seemed much more like the Rimmer that Lister knew.  “I don’t suppose this is open to discussion?”

“Not even a little bit.  What’s the matter, Rimsy?  You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?”

“You know I have a low pain threshold!”

“Well, that’s funny because mine seems to have gone up recently.  I wonder why that is?”

“I never hurt you badly!”

“That’s not my recollection.  In fact, I remember a night when I could barely move after you’d finished with me.  I remember being in pain for days afterwards.  Is this ringing any bells?”  Rimmer was backing away.

“That’s not fair, Lister.  You’re the one who chose to do things the hard way.”

“I didn’t _choose_ anything.  I just tried to keep what little dignity I could in the circumstances; and you wouldn’t even let me do that.”

“Come on, Listy.  What do I have to do?”

“I’ll tell you what you have to do.  Drop your trousers, get on your knees and pray that I get tired quickly.” 

“Is this because I wouldn’t let you smoke in my room?” Rimmer asked petulantly.

“This,” Lister said sweetly, “Is for the lot.  And if you try and stall any longer I will make it worse.”  Cringing, Rimmer did as he was told.

            Lister flexed his arm, and swung.  Rimmer yelped pitifully.  Lister took a deep breath and hit him again.  _Show no mercy.  Make him pay._   Rimmer whimpered desperately and Lister steeled himself for another blow.  _He deserves every bruise.  Make him realise what he did to you.  Make him sorry._  Rimmer cried out in pain and he faltered.  This was horrible.  He felt sick.  How could Rimmer enjoy this?  How could he be aroused by causing pain to someone else this way?  He stared at him cowering on the floor, exposed, humiliated.  That had been him just a couple of days ago.  But he hadn’t been trembling like Rimmer was right now.  He’d been putting on a show, moaning like a high-paid porn star; secretly rolling his eyes and just trying to get the damn thing over with as soon as possible so they could get to the part where a guilt-ridden Rimmer would pet and fuss over him.  Like a dog doing a trick for a reward.

            He’d forgotten that he should be ashamed of his degradation, mortified that this was happening to him.  It had become part of his life, just something to be tolerated.  In the seclusion of Rimmer’s chamber it had all made sense, it had been a little dimension of its own with its own rules and its own logic; but here on Starbug the whole thing seemed so...ludicrous.  Why had he given in to it so easily?  Why had he allowed Rimmer to do this to him?  Why hadn’t he fought against it with every fibre of his being?  What was the matter with him?  And why did this revenge, which should have been so satisfying, feel so wrong?

            He dropped the whip and kicked it across the floor.  Rimmer turned to look at him in surprise.  “That’s it?” he asked in surprise.

“That’s it,” Lister replied hollowly, “I can’t...I can’t do this.”  He staggered to the door and fumbled for the lock.  “Wait,” Rimmer struggled to his feet, “Lister, hang on a second.”

“No,” Lister triggered the lock and the door whooshed open.

“Lister, stop!”  

“Don’t tell me what to do, I don’t belong to you anymore!  Just leave me alone, man.”  He ran back to his quarters and locked the door behind him.    

           


	7. Chapter 7

            It was days before Lister could even look Rimmer in the face again.  When he gave him his orders in the cockpit, he did it without turning round.  He could feel Rimmer’s eyes on him, every moment they were together, watching his every movement but that didn’t bother him as much as it probably should.  He knew that anything he did, each yawn, each stretch, that Rimmer was watching him and remembering how he’d looked doing the same thing naked, but that didn’t particularly bother him either.  He didn’t care what Rimmer saw when he looked at him.  What bothered him was what he saw when he looked at Rimmer.

            So far Cat and Kryten hadn’t asked him what had happened during those long days and nights when he’d been shut away in Rimmer’s quarters, correctly assuming he didn’t want to talk about it.  Lister wondered occasionally if they suspected anything, and what he should tell them when curiosity finally won out over sensitivity.  Could he bear them knowing the truth?  When he thought about explaining to them what had gone on, the things he had done, the things Rimmer had done, it all sounded so much _worse_ than it had really been.  Whichever way he told it, it either sounded like Rimmer was a psychopath who had repeatedly beaten and raped him, or that he was a pathetic wet coward who’d cheerfully submitted to degradation and humiliation rather than face a reproving slap from a man he despised anyway.  Neither version told the whole story.  If he went with the first they’d probably kick Rimmer out of the airlock and demand to know why Lister had brought him back – and that was a question he couldn’t answer.  The second was too humiliating to contemplate.  And they were bound to ask, sooner or later.

            He knew they were worried about him.  He’d been distracted and snappish since they’d been back on Starbug.  It was partly tiredness.  On the _Revelation_ he’d got used to napping during the day and the demands of running the ship meant that was no longer possible.  He’d also been having trouble sleeping.  After the cosy luxury of his four-poster bed with its plush pillows and quilts, his cramped bunk and scratchy blanket didn’t quite measure up.  He kept reminding himself that he should be grateful to be sleeping in a bed he wasn’t chained to, but after falling out of his bunk for the third time in one night he simply did not feel grateful.  

More than that, he felt lonely.  He knew he shouldn’t, because after weeks of isolation he finally had his friends back.  But at night, the sudden withdrawal of the steady subliminal hum of Rimmer’s hard-light presence and the warm security of his arms had thrown Lister more than he would admit, even to himself. 

After they’d been back on Starbug for a couple of weeks, Lister – tired and distracted - had fallen down the steps out of the cockpit after finishing his shift and banged his head on the metal scanner table.  Kryten immediately came fussing and examined the growing bump on his forehead.  “I’m okay,” Lister growled, “I just want to go to bed.”

“You shouldn’t sleep after a head injury, sir!  It’s not safe!”

“It’s just a bruise!  I’ll be fine.”

“Perhaps I should come with you, Sir, and monitor you overnight just to be sure.”

“No way!” Cat interrupted, “I’m not being left alone with this skidmark for an entire shift!” he jerked a thumb at Rimmer who glowered but said nothing.  Kryten dithered uncertainly.  Lister, in no mood for any of this, let out a despairing huff.  “Take your shift, Kryten,” he flicked the slightest, most momentary glance at Rimmer, “Rimmer can keep an eye on me.”

            There was a short silence as everyone stared at him in surprise.  “Are you sure, sir?” Kryten asked politely.  Lister risked a slightly longer glance at the hologram, narrowing his eyes.  “I’m sure.  After all, what’s the worst he could do?”

            They walked back to his quarters in silence.  Once in the room, Lister pointed to the spare bunk.  “You.  Go there.  And don’t speak to me.  If I stop breathing then get Kryten.”

“I wasn’t going to try mouth-to-mouth if that’s what’s worrying you,” Rimmer remarked.  Lister glared at him.  “What?” Rimmer said innocently, “I’m a hologram.  No oxygen.  That’s all I meant.”

“Goodnight,” Lister said shortly, climbing into bed, burrowing under his blanket and turning his back pointedly on Rimmer.

            He didn’t expect to sleep, knowing that Rimmer was there, watching him.  But sleep actually came remarkably quickly.  His dreams were vivid, muddled.  The only one he remembered came right before he woke.  It wasn’t a dream, so much as a memory.  He was back on the _Revelation_ , chest-deep in the sunken marble bath in Rimmer’s en-suite.  The hot steamy water held him like a silky blanket as he lay back in Rimmer’s arms, while the hologram gently cleaned behind his ears with a soft wet cloth.  “You do like to be thorough, don’t you?” Lister teased gently.

“Spick and span, Listy.  That’s what we like.”

“I’m sure I’m clean enough.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.  You know me, I like to take care of my things.”  The words _‘my_ _things’_ sent a frisson through Lister that was part annoyance…and partly something else.  “There – all done,” Rimmer tossed the cloth into the water with a splash and gave Lister a little kiss just behind his freshly-washed ear – just as he did every morning.  Lister sighed slightly, “Do I have to get out now?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“I’m just…cosy.”

“I knew you’d take to this bath business with a little practise.”

            Lister looked down.  The water seemed to be higher than before.  “Rimmer?”

“What?”

“I’m sinking.”

“You’re okay.  I’m here.”

“No really!”  Now that he’d noticed it, the water seemed to be getting higher by the second, as if something was pulling him down, down into the depths.  “Rimmer, help me!”

“It will be alright.  I’m not going to let you go.”

“Hold me!” The water was creeping up to his face now, “Hold me!”

“I’m here, Lister.”

“Don’t let me go!  Don’t let me go!”  The water closed over his head….

            …And he woke with a gasp.  Rimmer was with him on the bunk, cradling his head in his lap.  “It’s okay,” he said softly, “You’re alright.  I’m here.”

“I thought…” Lister gasped, “You were going to let me drown.”

“You were dreaming, Lister.  Everything’s okay.”

“Don’t let me go,” Lister repeated, already drifting back to sleep, “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” Rimmer assured him softly, stroking his hair, “I’ve told you before – I take good care of my things.” 

            This time Lister slept soundly.

 

The next morning, when he felt the soft kiss on his ear, he thought he was dreaming again.  Slowly he became aware of the arms wrapped snugly around him, the warm press of a firm body against his back.  He sighed contentedly, then suddenly realised that he wasn’t dreaming.  Rimmer was here in his bunk, holding him just as though nothing had changed.  He panicked.  They both fell out of bed with a flump, in a tangle of limbs.  “What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” Lister demanded, scrambling to his feet.  “Don’t be like that,” Rimmer replied haughtily, “You _asked_ me to stay with you.”

“What?”

“After your nightmare,” Rimmer prompted.

“I did?”  Fragments of memory started to return, “Oh…I…I did.”  Lister reached up and cradled his head for a moment, “The bathtub…I was drowning.”

“Trust you to have nightmares about _washing_ ,” Rimmer remarked.  

“You didn’t need to get _into_ bed with me,” Lister snapped, “That was…inappropriate.”

“Inappropriate?” Rimmer scoffed, “Lister, your _bed_ is hardly the most personal thing of yours I’ve ever been in.”  He saw Lister’s expression and quickly added, “Besides, I thought that was what you wanted.”

“ _Why_ would I want that?” Lister tried to sound scathing, but it came out sounding forced.  Rimmer shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, “I suppose I thought for a moment that maybe you missed me as much as I miss you.”

“Yeah,” Lister muttered sarcastically, quickly bending to retrieve the scattered bedclothes, “I really _miss_ being your pet slave.”

            “You can deny it all you want, Lister, but I know you still think about it.  I can see it in your face every time we’re together.”

“Of course I still _think_ about it,” he snapped, “Trauma tends to linger in the mind, you know!  When you’ve been betrayed by someone you trust, abused, violated and humiliated, you don’t just forget about it!  And then to see that person _every_ day, to be reminded _every_ day of what they did to you, what they know about you, how they made you feel…”

“How _did_ I make you feel, Lister?” Rimmer asked simply.  Lister hesitated.  He clung tightly to the bedclothes he’d picked up, holding them in front of him like a shield.  “I don’t think I can put it into words,” he said finally.

            Rimmer walked towards him.  Lister eyed him warily.  “Last night,” Rimmer said quietly, “In your dream, you were calling for me.”

“It was just a dream,” Lister whispered, turning away, refusing to meet his gaze.

“You were calling my name over and over.  ‘Don’t let me go’, you said.”

“It wasn’t…” Lister felt Rimmer’s hand cup his face, tilt his head up and then he was kissing him.  When the kiss ended, Rimmer looked down into his eyes and smiled at whatever it was he saw there.  “You didn’t stop me.” 

Lister tried to back away, ashamed and confused suddenly.  The thought of stopping Rimmer, of saying _no_ , simply hadn’t occurred to him.  And that was a little frightening.  Rimmer curled a hand around the back of his neck, stopping his retreat and firmly drew him close again.  And still Lister found himself submitting, without resistance or argument, and he didn’t understand why. 

“You’re still mine…” Rimmer said quietly. 

“Don’t…” Lister whispered faintly but Rimmer ignored him.

“…And I’m _not_ going to let you go, Lister.  Things might have changed, you might not be wearing a collar anymore, but I know you still belong to me.  We both know it.  And I’m never going to let you go.”

            Lister stumbled back a few steps, still clinging to his bedclothes.  They stared at each other.  Lister took a deep breath.  “Get out.  And don’t get in my bed again,” he said weakly.  Rimmer looked at him like he was disappointed in him, then sighed and walked out.  Lister sank down on the edge of the bed, trembling.  After a moment, without knowing he was doing it, he ran a finger across his still-tingling lips.


	8. Chapter 8

            After that, Lister started locking his door at night.  He didn’t really believe Rimmer would try and sneak into bed with him again, but his own behaviour scared him even more.  The fact that Rimmer had dared say those things, to touch him and kiss him that way _here,_ on Starbug, was alarming enough.  But not as alarming to Lister as the fact that he had _allowed_ it.  He was free, he’d escaped, _he_ was the one back in control of things -the way it had always been.  So why hadn’t he punched the bastard in the face?  Rimmer had no power over him anymore; if he decided to tell Cat and Kryten the truth about what Rimmer had done to him, he could have him switched off permanently.  Why hadn’t he said that?  Rimmer should be scared of him, not the other way round.  So why had all his will and self-possession melted like ice under a blowtorch the moment Rimmer had touched him? Why was he the one sleeping behind a locked door? 

Because deep down he wasn’t certain that if Rimmer _did_ decide to come in one night, to pull him close like that again, to kiss him again, he would be able to say no.  If Rimmer wanted more than a kiss, if he told him - in that soft but stern way he’d become so used to - to get down on his knees, he might obey just as blindly.  It had become – terrifyingly – like second nature. 

            When they’d first come back to Starbug, Rimmer had initially kept a discreet distance from him – still unsure perhaps if a more dramatic retribution for his actions might yet be forthcoming and not wishing to provoke it if there was.  Maybe wondering how long he had before Lister told the others the truth about what had happened; or maybe just hoping that with time and a little space, Lister might just decide to put the whole episode behind them.  He’d hovered around and he’d watched Lister as if his eyes were magnetised, but he hadn’t touched him and hadn’t spoken to him unless spoken to.  Since the night of the dream that had all changed.

           Rimmer seemed to have made some sort of decision, although what exactly that decision was Lister couldn’t be sure.   But he wasn’t keeping his distance anymore – at least not when they were alone.  He hadn’t done anything in front of the others, but on several occasions he’d caught Lister by himself and…done things.  Little things.  Nothing major, nothing threatening.  Just small touches that nevertheless made Lister’s heart bounce round his chest like a game of pong. 

            The first time he’d been in his seat in the cockpit, studying a star chart with deep concentration when he’d felt a warm hand on the back of his neck, the gentle stroke of a thumb against his skin.  Still concentrating, he’d reached up out of habit to lay his own hand against it and give a tender squeeze.  It was only when the fingers laced so familiarly through his own that he came to his senses, realised who was petting him and then quickly and angrily shoved the hand away, “Leave me alone.”  Rimmer, without a word, had complied and left him sitting there red-faced and unsettled.

            On another occasion he’d been in the kitchen, standing on tiptoe to reach a tin pushed to the back of the top cupboard and half-listening to Kryten explaining a flight path to Cat.  Rimmer had appeared behind him and reached over his shoulder, his weight resting against Lister’s back (oh, the memories _that_ sensation brought flooding back), and plucked the tin down for him.  Lister had snatched it from him silently.  There was no way he was going to say ‘thank you’ and anyway he didn’t trust himself to speak.  There’d been other things too, little ‘accidental’ touches that he could have dismissed as pure coincidence if it wasn’t for the fact that Rimmer had spent the last two weeks making a concerted effort not to come anywhere near him.

            Sometimes when he was alone, he would hear Rimmer asking him again, ‘ _How **did** I make you feel?_ ’ and memories would overwhelm him.  In the few weeks they’d spent together, Rimmer had made him feel many, many things.  Anger, fear, frustration, resentment, shame, humiliation, helplessness.  But there were other memories too.  Like the moment in the bath he’d dreamt of, before his nightmare had turned the memory sour.  The easy intimacy of the two of them in the tub together, Rimmer bathing him with such careful tenderness as if he was something precious that might break. 

Or another time, lying on his stomach with his head at the foot of the bed, his heels kicked up behind him and his nose in a book.  Rimmer lay beside him, his head at the opposite end of the bed, his hand lightly stroking Lister’s spine.  “Listy?”

“Mmm-hmmm?”

“What are you reading?”

“ _Treasure_ _Island_.”

“Is it good?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me put that another way…” the stroking became more persuasive and Lister lifted his lower back like a cat as Rimmer’s hand reached his tail end, “…Can it wait?”  Lister threw him a playfully petulant look over one shoulder, “I’ve just got to a good bit, man,”

“A really good bit?” Rimmer’s hand left his back and moved lower.

“A really, really good bit,” Lister confirmed.

“Okay, Listy,” Rimmer leaned back, smiling, “You tell me when the good bit’s over.”

            Fifteen minutes later, Lister pushed the book aside and rolled over, smiling.  “All done?” Rimmer raised an eyebrow.  Lister nodded.  “So I have permission to come aboard, Jim lad?”

“Don’t do the voice.”

“I suppose any mention of a ‘Jolly Roger’ is also out of the question?”

“Yep.”

“Tell you what,” Rimmer crawled up beside him, a twinkle in his eye, “How about a little role-play?  I’ll be the captain and you be the cabin-boy.”

“How about…” Lister replied smiling, “I’ll be the buried treasure and you have to find me?” he quickly disappeared under the bedcovers.  It didn’t take Rimmer long to find him, but when he did there was a muffled “Yo-ho!” from under the covers.

            It was easier not to think of the moments like that, those odd little passages of time when he’d seen a different side to Rimmer.  When the hologram had been playful…almost loving.  So much easier to focus on the other stuff, the sick feeling of dread every time Rimmer had gone to _that_ locked cabinet, wondering how bad it was going to be this time.  Or that sharp feeling of resentment every morning when he woke up to find that he was shackled again, that Rimmer still didn’t trust him enough to let him be free.  Those were the feelings that he understood, they were the steady island in this stormy sea of emotion that he found himself in.  They were what he clung to.  Only…it felt like Rimmer was waiting for something else.

            Not forgiveness.  He had neither sought that, nor seemed to expect it.  But every time they were together, each time Rimmer _touched_ him, it was like he was waiting for a response and Lister wasn’t sure what that was.  It made him feel anxious, like he was in the middle of a play and didn’t quite know his lines.  He wasn’t sure what Rimmer _wanted_ from him.  And for some reason, that distressed him.

A few days later, Rimmer cornered him in a store-room.  Emboldened by the sound of Kryten whistling merrily in the laundry room down the corridor, Lister straightened up before Rimmer could approach him.  “Go away,” he said flatly.  He turned his back on him, determined not to show fear.  He had to nip this thing in the bud, he could not spend the rest of his life quivering every time Rimmer came near him.  He heard footsteps behind him and gritted his teeth, “I mean it,” he growled, “Go away, Rimmer.”

Suddenly he felt hands close gently but firmly around his wrists.  He tried to pull away but the grip tightened – not enough to hurt, but enough to let him know that he wasn’t strong enough to fight.  Rimmer slowly, inexorably, pulled his hands behind him, holding them pinned at the small of his back.  “Let me go!” he hissed, hating the note of desperation that had crept into his voice.  “Or what?” Rimmer purred, “Are you going to _scream?_ ”

“Kryten is just down the hall!  If I shout…”

“If you shout then you’ll have to explain everything to them.”

“I’ll do it!  I’ll tell them everything!  I’ll tell them what you did.”

“Ah, but Listy, Listy…that would also mean telling them everything that _you_ did.  Do you really want them to know how far you sank?  Can you imagine Cat’s face when we tell him about…hmm…the toe thing for example?”

“I had no choice!”

“You think that will matter to them?  Whatever happens to me, they’ll never look at you the same way again.  And you know it.”  Lister bit his lip.  He did know it.  He’d thought the threat of exposure was his trump card, he hadn’t expected Rimmer to turn it on him this way, but now his recent behaviour made sense.  Once Rimmer had realised that Lister would never willingly tell their crew-mates the truth, there was nothing for him to fear.  He was, effectively, helpless.

            Lister tried to twist away but Rimmer held him fast, “Uh, uh, uh.  Behave yourself.”

“What do you want?” Lister asked pleadingly, dreading the answer.

“For you to open your eyes, that’s all.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Admit it.  _This_ ,” Rimmer kissed the side of his neck, “Is the only thing that’s felt really right since we came back here.”  The kiss made every nerve in Lister’s body tingle.  Rimmer went on, “Me holding you like this, _owning_ you like this, is what you want.  What you _need_.”

“No…”

“Yes.”

“You _hurt_ me,” Lister said desperately, “You _beat_ me.”

“Yes,” Rimmer agreed mildly, “And you loved it.  Didn’t you?”

“No!”

“Oh, yes, you did.  I used to watch your face sometimes as I was whipping you.  You should have got a whole mantelpiece full of Oscars for those little performances.  You might have been ashamed and embarrassed, Listy, but you played that role like a pro.  You didn’t like the pain but you _loved_ how much it pleased me.  You loved giving yourself to me that way.  Don’t try and fight it now.”       

Experimentally, Lister flexed his fingers.  Rimmer’s hands held his wrists as tightly and inescapably as handcuffs.  He couldn’t move.  The tingle became a shiver and he whimpered slightly.  “That’s right,” Rimmer whispered, “Give in to it, Listy.  You know this is how it’s supposed to be.” 

Lister’s heart began to thump even faster.  His breathing quickened.  Because even in it’s wrongness, this _did_ feel right.  This felt _good_.  Maybe it was true, maybe this was his destiny.  “This is what you were born for, Lister,” Rimmer murmured to him, as if reading his mind.  “You.  Are.  Mine.” 

Lips moved over Lister’s skin, tickling and stimulating him with every word.  He felt light-headed, delirious…and afraid.  “Please,” he whispered, not knowing himself anymore if he was pleading for release…or pleading for more.  “Say it, Lister.”

“I…” he was trembling uncontrollably.

“ _Say_ it!”

“I…I…” Lister’s heart was pounding.  He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think.  It was too much.  He fainted.

             He wasn’t out long.  When he came round he was lying on the store-room floor with a bag of rice tucked under his head as a pillow.  Kryten was squatting beside him, taking his pulse.  Rimmer was standing to one side, “Is he okay?”

“His heart is racing,” Kryten said anxiously.

“It’s very hot in here,” Rimmer said innocuously. 

“Mr Lister,” Kryten laid a hand on his forehead, “Do you remember what happened before you passed out?  Were you in any pain?”

“No.  No pain,” Lister said flatly.  He stared up at Rimmer, who looked down at him with just a trace of guilt.  “You have a raging fever, Sir.  I think you might be sick.”

“I think you might be right,” Lister replied weakly, all the while thinking, _‘God help me, I nearly said it.  I so nearly said it…’_


	9. Chapter 9

            He was fixing a leaky pipe on C-deck a few days later when he felt a hand curl possessively around the back of his thigh.  His breath caught in his throat.  He was bent over, his head hidden inside the vent, but there was only one person it could be.  He tensed and felt the hand squeeze gently in response.  His face flushed.  He was furious suddenly.  Of all the moments Rimmer could have chosen to mess with him, to touch him like this, to make him feel…all kinds of things that he shouldn’t, did it have to be now?  While he was bent over like this, so exposed and vulnerable?  It was too much suddenly, all of it was too much.  He’d had enough.  He was sick of being toyed with.

He pulled himself out of the vent, spun round and punched Rimmer in the face.  Hard.

            Rimmer stared back at him in surprise.  The blow had barely rocked him, but Lister’s hand was stinging like he’d slammed it in a car door.  He didn’t care.  The moment he looked into Rimmer’s face, something inside him fractured and broke.  He burst into tears suddenly.  Rimmer stepped forward, “Lister?  Why are you crying?”

“I’m…sorry,” Lister blurted out, “I’m sorry I hit you.”

“Come here,” Rimmer said, “Come with me,” he guided him into an empty set of sleeping quarters down the hall.  He sat him down in a chair and gently wiped the tears from his face.  “What’s the matter?”

“Why…?” Lister gasped, “Why won’t you just leave me _alone?_ ”

“Because that’s not really what you want.  Is it?”

“I don’t know,” Lister wept, “I don’t know what I want.  I don’t know who I _am_ anymore.  I don’t understand what you’ve _done_ to me.”

“What do you mean?”

Lister cradled his head in his hands, despairingly, “I’m meant to be the strong one!  The one who makes the decisions, who keeps us all going!  But since we’ve been back here…I just don’t know if I can do it anymore!”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t figure out,” Lister choked out, “How you won so easily.  How you made me give in.”

“Really?” Rimmer asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow. 

Lister shook his head, wiping his eyes, “At first I told myself it was because there was no chance of escape.  I told myself that you’d hurt me if I tried.  And I suppose that was part of it, but I _could_ have tried.  Once you started letting me free in the evenings, I could have made a break for it.  I could have used the chains to shackle you to the bed and beat the door code out of you.  I could have tried smashing the door down.  I could have pulled a sickie to see if you’d let me out to take me to the medi-bay.  There’s all kinds of things I could have done.  But I didn’t even try.”

“And why not?” Rimmer asked him softly.

“I don’t _know_.  And now we’re back here and everything should be back how it was, but it isn’t.  Everything’s still messed up!  It’s like you’ve got me trapped in some force-field, or controlled with another spinal implant.  I can’t get _free_ of you and I can’t explain it.  I can’t trust myself anymore.  And if I can’t trust myself, can’t take care of myself, then how can I take care of everyone else?”

            “Maybe,” Rimmer told him, “The answer is simpler than you think.”

“What do you mean?” Lister sniffled.

“I mean maybe there is no big mystery.  Maybe it’s not that you _can’t_ get free, Lister.  Maybe it’s that you don’t want to.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Is it?”

“I don’t want to be your slave!  I want my life back!”

“You’ve _got_ your life back, Lister.  You said it yourself, everything _should_ be back how it was.  But it’s not making you happy, is it?”

“That’s because _you_ won’t let me forget what happened!  You’re constantly there, touching me, reminding me…You won’t let me move _on_ with my life, man!”

“I tried to,” Rimmer reminded him.  “When we got back here I stayed away from you.  I backed off and gave you space to think about everything that had happened.  Do you know what I saw?”

“What?”

“I saw you wasting away.  Living in daydreams.  Not eating.  Not sleeping.”

“I was _traumatised_.”

“That’s what I thought at first too.  And then I spent that night with you in your room.  Heard you talking in your sleep.”

“I had a bad dream.”

“I know you did.  But you were talking before that.  For hours.  Do you want to know some of the things you said?” 

Lister looked at him uncertainly but Rimmer ploughed on.  “At one point you opened your eyes and looked at me.  I was sitting on the other bunk, watching you and I thought you’d woken up.  You said to me, ‘Where have you been?’ and I told you I hadn’t been anywhere.  You reached out a hand to me and said ‘I’ve been here on my own for days.  How could you leave me alone like that?’  That’s when I realised you were still asleep.  I came over and sat on the side of the bunk, held your hand and told you I was back now.  And you said, “I was scared something had happened to you.’  And then you went back to sleep.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Lister said hotly, “Of course I was worried about something happening to you.  I would have starved to death in that smegging room!”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  Plenty of people knew where you were.  You’d have been chucked back in with the other slaves but you would have been fine.”

“Whatever,” Lister replied dismissively, “It was just sleep talk.”

“Perhaps,” Rimmer allowed, “But all night it was the same thing, Lister.  The same theme.  ‘Where have you been?  Where did you go?  Don’t let me go.  Don’t leave me.’  All night long you clung to me and told me how alone you felt.  How much you missed me.  You can call me crazy if you like, but I think that means something.” 

            Lister paled slightly, “You’re making this up.  You’re just trying to mess with my head, as usual.”

“I’m trying,” Rimmer said, “To help you understand what you really want.”

“You don’t know what I want!”

“Actually,” Rimmer took his sore hand and caressed it, “I think maybe I do.”  Lister pulled his hand away.  “Don’t play games with me, man!  This is about what _you_ want!  And we both already know how low you’ll stoop to get it!”

“I confess that my methods have been questionable…”

“ _Questionable?!_ ”

“…But you’ve said too that you made it easy for me.  You played along.  You let yourself get sucked into the fantasy, the same as I did.  We both know why I did what I did, but you still won’t admit why you let me.”

“Because I don’t know!”

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t!” Lister shouted, standing up and pacing the room in frustration.  “I don’t understand any of this!  All I know is that can’t stop thinking about how it was when we were…together.  How easy and simple and...fullfilling it was when all I needed to worry about was making you happy.  I didn’t even have to worry about myself because I knew you would take care of me.  And even though I know I should hate you for what you did to me, I keep thinking how quickly it felt right.  And now...now...”

“Now what?” Rimmer asked.  Lister slumped against the wall, letting his head fall back with a thump.  “Now I feel so lost.  So purposeless,” he squeezed his eyes closed.  “So lonely,” he finally admitted.

            “Of course you do,” Rimmer walked over to him and gently took hold of his shoulders, “You want things back how they were.”

“No!” Lister shook his head, desperately.

“Yes, you do.  Why can’t you admit that?”

“Because it’s _wrong!!!_ ”

“Does this feel wrong?” Rimmer bent down and kissed him.  Lister pushed him away, “Yes!”

“But you still want it, don’t you?  Because you love me.”

“No…” Lister insisted frantically.

“You do.  And I love you.” 

Lister covered his face with his hands.  “Don’t,” he said bitterly, “Don’t call _this_ – whatever it is - _love_.”

“Why not?” Rimmer stroked his head.

“You don’t _love_ me,” Lister shook him off, “You want to own me.  It’s not the same.”

“Believe what you like.  But you do love me.  I know you do.”

“How?  How do you know?”

“Because I’m stood here right now,” Rimmer smiled smugly.  “You could have left me on the _Revelation_ , but you didn’t.  You were never comfortable with that escape plan.  And you weren’t willing to leave me there if there was a chance, however small, that we wouldn’t find a way out.  I knew then that you loved me.  And I’ve been waiting for you to realise it too.”

“That’s not right,” Lister stammered, “That’s not why I did it.”

“So why did you?”  Lister found he couldn’t answer. 

“When we got back here,” Rimmer continued, “I didn’t know what to expect.  Even if you didn’t switch me off, I thought you’d relish being in charge again, start getting your own back.  But it never happened.  That first night, when you came to my room with the holo-whip, you couldn’t even bring yourself to take any real kind of revenge.  It felt wrong, didn’t it?”

“I don’t get a kick out of hurting people the way you do,” Lister muttered.

“I know, but if anyone deserved it then I did.  But you couldn’t do it,” He tenderly stroked Lister’s face, “You couldn’t bring yourself to turn on your master.”   

“Go to hell,” Lister said weakly.

“So why were you so distraught when you hit me just now?  Why did you immediately start apologising?”

“I don’t know,” Lister said hopelessly.

 “I do.  I think,” Rimmer said carefully, cupping his face and tilting it up, “That I really did train you better than I ever thought.  You asked me how I did it, how I made you feel this way and actually the answer is very easy.  I made you fall in love, Lister.  That was all it took to make you my prisoner.”

Rimmer slid his arms around his waist and kissed him again; and this time Lister didn’t push him away.  His head was spinning with everything Rimmer had said.  He thought of that moment on the _Revelation_ , as the holograms filed past him to what could have been their doom.  How he’d scanned the crowd for Rimmer’s face.  And then their eyes had met, and yes he’d felt _something_.  A pull…a need…but more than that.  A fear.  A terror of what it would mean to be separated – perhaps forever.  And despite his anger and resentment, he knew he couldn’t let that happen.  That he couldn’t bear it. 

“The thing is,” he whispered when Rimmer finally released him from the kiss, “You and me, we’ve always been together.  Ever since we met.  I suppose part of me…I was scared of losing that.  When I thought of leaving you behind, even though I was still angry, I knew it didn’t feel right.  I couldn’t picture a life without you.  And I realised I would rather be with you – even if it meant being your slave – than not be with you at all.”

“And you don’t think that’s love?” Rimmer asked, amused.

“I don’t know what to call it,” Lister said hopelessly, “But…I’ve never truly belonged anywhere, man.  I never knew where I came from.  I never had proper parents or a family.  You guys are the closest thing I ever got to that.  So...belonging to you...kind of made sense.  It fitted.  Like maybe that was the reason we were brought together.”

“I’d like to think it was,” Rimmer told him, moving in for another kiss.  Lister turned his face away, “But it’s not that simple.”

            Rimmer sighed, clearly starting to lose patience, “It _could_ be if you’d let it.”

“I won’t let it,” Lister replied firmly, “Rimmer, I can’t go back to how it was.  It’s too much.  It’s too _intense_.”

“Is that what’s bothering you?” Rimmer asked, “You think I’m going to shut you away again?  Chain you up and bring you your meals and the occasional treat?”

“Isn’t that what you’d like?”

“Smeg, yes,” Rimmer admitted cheerfully, “But it wouldn’t work.  Not here.”

“So what then?”

“Surely that’s easy?” Rimmer told him, “You’ve got the best of both worlds, Listy.  You can call the shots in the cockpit, so long as I can call them in the bedroom.  I’ll let you make the decisions, I’ll let you out to play with your friends, so long as it’s understood that when we’re alone,” He ran a finger lightly up Lister’s throat, held it under his chin, “You’re all mine.”

“The others…”

“Never have to know,” Rimmer finished the sentence for him.  Lister swallowed hard, “And if I say no?”

“The thing is…” Rimmer put his hands gently around Lister’s throat, caressing him lightly, “I don’t think you can.”

            Lister froze up.  Rimmer moved his face closer, “If I told you right now to get down on all fours and crawl round the room, I think you’d do it.  If I told you to take down my trousers with your teeth and suck my cock, I think you’d do that too.”  Lister was trembling, but he didn’t move.  Rimmer slid one hand from his throat and moved it down between his legs.  Lister gasped slightly but still didn’t move.  To his own combined delight and dismay, he was becoming extremely hard.  “You’re already my slave, Lister.  What you have to decide,” Rimmer told him softly, “Is whether or not you’re going to be a _willing_ slave.”

            Lister’s mind raced.  He thought of every day he’d spent under Rimmer’s power, every order he’d received, every demand made of him.  Could he really submit to that again?  Could he do it, knowing things were different, _knowing_ that he had a choice?  He looked up into Rimmer’s face, gazed into his eyes, felt the warm strength of hard-light hands on his body, holding him, owning him.  And he knew there was only one answer he could give.  “Yes,” he whispered, “Yes.  I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Good,” Rimmer said, “Now tell me why.”  Lister answered automatically, but as soon as the words left his mouth he was both relieved and astounded to realise they were true, “Because I love you.”

Rimmer kissed him; and for Lister it was like a sudden weight had been lifted.  For the first time since they’d been back on Starbug he felt at home.  He felt complete.  He felt _owned_.  “Take your clothes off,” Rimmer whispered, “And get on the bed.”  Lister, in a blissful daze, obeyed.  “Now watch me,” Rimmer ordered, “While I get undressed.”

“You’ve changed,” Lister whispered, watching him obediently.

“What?”

“When you say it now,” Lister told him, “You say it like you really mean it.”

“I suppose,” Rimmer joined him on the bed, “It’s because now I know you’re really mine.  It’s not just a game anymore, is it?”

“No,” Lister whispered, sinking to the mattress in Rimmer’s arms.  Rimmer kissed him again. 

“Wait,” Lister murmured suddenly, pulling away slightly, “Wait.  There should be chains.”

“Huh?” Rimmer raised an eyebrow, looking down at him with surprise.

“I’m your slave.  I should be helpless, right?” Lister said desperately, “You should be in control.”

“You _want_ me to tie you up?” Rimmer asked, confused.

“Yes, tie me up!” Lister pawed at him, “Bind me.  Gag me.  Blindfold me.  Do whatever you want.  I’m all yours.”  Rimmer stared at him, baffled, but gradually understanding began to dawn.  He smiled.  “No,” he said slowly, “I don’t think I will.  Not tonight.  In fact,” he bent down and began to kiss his way along Lister’s body, “I don’t even think I need to.  I think you’ll do what you’re told either way.  Because you want to please me, don’t you, Listy?”

“Yes...yes, but...”

“You’ll obey me and do whatever I say, won’t you?”  He ran his thumbs down along the insides of Lister’s thighs, just grazing his crotch and he moaned deliriously.  “Please...I can’t...”

“And you’re not going to get away with pretending that cruel old Iron Balls is making you do these terrible, wonderful, things.  Oh no.  I’m not going to lay a single restraining finger on you and you’re going to do it all anyway.  You’re going to follow every order, indulge every desire, suffer every humiliation, and you’re going to accept that you’re doing it because _you_ need it and _you_ love it.  Is that clear?”

“Oh God...Rimmer, please...”

“And if you’re a _very_ good boy then perhaps I’ll tie you up tomorrow.”  Lister moaned softly and Rimmer smiled at his desperation.  “Say ‘yes, sir’,” he prompted tenderly.  “Yes, sir,” Lister whispered.  And for the first time, he really meant it.


End file.
